


Last

by WandererRiha



Series: Brokeback [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Gen, I apologize in advance for your feels, M/M, everyone dies, everyone lives dammit, fond farewell, good sads, in a nice way?, look they're old, they've lived long and happy lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: Ignis is the last of them to die.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ravus Nox Fleuret/Ignis Scientia
Series: Brokeback [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1271228
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	Last

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue to the "Brokeback" series.

Ignis is the last of them to die. Gladio is the first. It’s fitting, somehow. Gladio was always the first to charge into battle, always the one to take point on any hunt. He was their tank, their shield, and perhaps did not take as much care with his own body as he should have. He dies with his sword in his hand, as he would have wanted it. A surprise attack by a courel while out for a walk in the woods. Maybe because they’re all old enough to remember a time when local wildlife was not the scariest thing to roam the great outdoors, they forget sometimes how dangerous some animals can be. Also, they’ve gotten older. Are old. Gladio was over seventy; married. No children, but several nieces and nephews, plus countless mentored soldiers and scouts, kids who might have been Crownsguard or Kingsglaives if such a thing still existed. Prompto was with him when he drew his last breath. They had time to say goodbye.

Ravus follows about two years later. He’s the oldest of their group, pushing eighty, and resenting what comes with such an advanced age. Of all of them, Ravus had understood how to slow down and smell the sylleblossoms, but being forced to check his pace makes him chafe. He didn’t want to live to be old enough to become useless, to become a burden. He doesn’t. He dies peacefully, book in hand, one rainy afternoon in summer. Ignis finds him like that and cannot speak for two days. The surviving widowers cling to one another, helping each other limp through their grief.

Luna is older than Noctis, and though wives frequently outlive their husbands, the years have not been kind to her. Even more than Gladio, she’d withstood years upon years of repeated physical abuse; not from battle, but from her duty to purge Eos of Starscourge. The Astrals had demanded her life when she was sixteen, and they finally claim their debt when she is eighty. She falls asleep in her husband’s arms and never wakes up. They lay her next to her brother, and sow her grave with sylleblossoms. Neither have a headstone. It’s better if no one else knows where she’s been laid.

There are only three of them left, and it feels wrong that Gladio is not with them. Prompto’s begun to truly show his age, blond hair fading to platinum. His body wanes thin and wasted, barely strong enough to support his mechanical bits.

“It’s keeping me alive,” he confesses to Ignis one day. “I don’t think I _can_ die. Not with all this still attached.” He gestures to the reservoir of sparkling blue energy hidden beneath his shirt. It’s the first and only warning he gives.

Weeks later, he mentions going to take some photos and hikes off. When he doesn’t return, Noctis and Ignis go out to look for him. He’s sitting propped against a rock, still breathing, eyes open, watching the sun set. He need fear no deamons now, the night is no more or less dangerous than the day. There’s a wide puddle dampening the earth around him, and one side of his shirt and trousers are wet.

“I fell,” he shrugs, smiling, answering their unspoken question. His trousers are torn and his elbow bleeding on the same side as his reservoir, and he’s covered in dirt and dust. Prompto’s not as nimble as he once was, and the trail is steep and rocky.

Without a word, Noctis and Ignis sit down on either side of him. They watch the sun go down together, hand in hand. By the time night falls, Prompto is gone.

It’s only Noct and Ignis now. Perhaps because of losing not just his wife, but most of his oldest and closest friends, Noctis becomes quiet and withdrawn. Ignis knows depression when he sees it, and does his best to care for his king. Noctis hasn’t been king for ages, he’d abdicated to his sons years ago, but he will always be king to Ignis. Noct has always needed more sleep than most, his fragile body requiring him to recharge often. It’s impressive he’s lasted as long as he has. When Ignis comes to wake him and can’t, it’s not necessarily a surprise.

He’s alone now. Ignis has planned and overseen five funerals, and he’s got the logistics laid out for one more. He’s had his affairs in order for a long time. It doesn’t actually occur to him to do anything drastic. Most of him is running on autopilot, making calls, smoothing tempers, ensuring everything runs like clockwork. The funeral concludes without a hitch. Noctis is laid next to Luna to share her blanket of sylleblossoms. Now it’s only Ignis who knows the secret of where everyone he ever loved is buried.

He’s got a splitting headache after the funeral. He sits down to try to rest, to tie up a few administrative loose ends. There isn’t much to do. A few papers to sign, a single phone call to make. Then he’s done. There’s a sharp pain behind his long-dead left eye. He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair. Maybe just five minutes.

Bob, faithful servant and friend, finds him like that hours later. Still, peaceful. Almost ninety. Dead of natural causes; specifically, an embolism behind his left eye. It could have been put there by the Ring of the Lucii, undetected these many years, or it could have formed earlier that day. There’s no way to know. Death would have been instantaneous with little pain. It seems fitting that Ignis would be last. He’s seen everyone else into the afterlife. Without his king, there is no reason for him to hang around.

Bob follows Ignis’ instructions to the letter. There is only himself, Iris, and Aulea left to mourn his passing. Now only they know the secret of the royal household beneath the sylleblossoms. Blue and white stretch out for miles over the open field. It’s part of a protected forest, nothing will ever be built here. No one will ever find them. There will come a time when even they forget the exact spot. There will come a time when everyone will forget. Bob doesn’t think he ever will.


End file.
